


why did i leave?

by skduar



Series: you didn't do anything wrong [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Depressed Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Disassociation, Drunk Hank Anderson, Gavin's cats give the comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Out of Character, Pain, Panic Attacks, Poor Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Rape/Non-con Elements, Sad, Sad Ending, Suicide Idealization, bad hank anderson, briefly, kind of, whoops i did it again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 23:20:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29741415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skduar/pseuds/skduar
Summary: Connor knows he’s an idiot, but he had been so sure this had been the right thing to do.Regret settles so deeply into his body, and he wishes that everything would stop.
Relationships: Connor & Gavin Reed, Hank Anderson & Connor
Series: you didn't do anything wrong [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2181477
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	why did i leave?

**Author's Note:**

> Non-Con, Panic Attacks, Abuse
> 
> this poor android why do i hurt him so much im a monster fUCK

The car pulled slowly into the driveway, the sound of gravel being crushed underneath wheels passing through their ears. Gavin shifted the gear to park before he rolled up the windows and pulled the key out of the ignition.

Gavin opened his door and stepped out. Connor lifted his head up from the window and sluggishly followed suit.

As they walked the pathway to Gavin’s door, the sound of crickets blanketed the atmosphere in a comforting feel. Lightning bugs blinked in the air, and as they reached the door the keys jingled as they opened the lock.

“Come in, and take your shoes off. Don’t want any dirt on my new carpet.” Gavin threw his keys on the grey couch to his left before sliding off his shoes. Connor pulled off his boots slowly, and his knee length socks were hidden by his pants. 

As Connor looked around, he saw a litter box in the kitchen through the doorway and cat toys strewn all over the floor. Connor walked slowly along the tiled hallway as Gavin gestured for him to follow. He pointed to a door on his right, “This is the bathroom.” He then pointed back to where they came. “That’s the living room and you can get to the kitchen through there.” He nodded his head to a door to the left. “This is my room.” Connor nodded, and Gavin led them back into the living room.

“You can sleep on the couch, watch TV, do whatever. Just don’t trash the place.” Gavin awkwardly rolled his shoulders before clearing his throat. “Yeah, uh… see you in the morning, I guess.” Gavin walked out of the living room, and Connor awkwardly moved to sit on the couch. The carpet under his feet was a nice light grey, fitting nicely with the darker grey couch. A TV was mounted on a white wall, and a glass coffee table sat in front of him.

Pictures lined the walls of Gavin and someone else Connor couldn’t make out the face of, it had been scribbled out. A cat playhouse sat in the right corner of the room, and on the tower at the top sat a Tuxedo cat, watching him with cautious green eyes. In the dome in the playhouse lay a ragdoll, blue eyes curious.

As Connor stared at it, it let out a small _murr_ before it jumped down onto the carpet floor. It walked over slowly, head low as if inspecting him. It slowly inched closer before jumping on the coffee table, almost knocking off the remote to the TV.

Connor let his hand out slowly, and the ragdoll sniffed his hand lightly. _Mrrrow,_ it said, and it jumped onto the couch next to him. Connor stared transfixed at the small furry animal, and the cat rubbed their head on his outstretched hand. _Murrr,_ it said again, and Connor slowly petted it’s head. It’s fur was fluffy and soft, and Connor’s eyes were wide in awe. He had no idea cats were so gentle, so sweet.

Slowly, the tuxedo cat jumped off from their tower and inched its way to the couch as well. It sat on the couch next to him, but it didn’t move to make contact with him, preferring to keep their distance. The ragdoll rumbled in a purr, and let out a small _Mrrow_ every so often.

Connor fell asleep to a calming rumble on his chest, and the comforting presence of a snoring cat to his right.

\----

When Connor awoke, it was still dark out. The cats were no longer laying on him, and the scratching of the litter box in the kitchen alerted to the location of one of the missing cats. Connor shifted his stiff arm, and sat up slowly. The darkness was calming earlier, but now he couldn’t tell the difference between the two houses.

Now, he was in the Lieutenant’s house, with the dark walls and the dark TV, the wrappers lining the table and the floors. The smell of dog hit his nose, and he choked on it.

He inhaled slowly, rubbing his two hands together. He wasn’t in there, the snoring from Gavin’s room wasn’t the Lieutenant. The scratching of the litter box wasn’t Sumo scratching the corner of the couch, he wasn’t there.

The phantom smell of sweat reached his nose, and he itched. He remembered the Lieutenants fury at work, and he remembered his fury as he smashed the bottle to the floor. He remembered the shouting of words he yelled at Gavin, and he remembered how he felt as if he was back at the Lieutenant’s house, words being spit at in his face.

The stench of alcohol burned in his lungs, and he choked on a cry. Alcohol burns. It burns in his cuts, it burns his memory, it burns in his nose, and it burns in his lungs.

 _Murr,_ The ragdoll was back, walking towards his side. Their head rubbed against it, and the itching feeling of hands got chased away by the warmth of the cat’s fur. He reached out a hand to pet it slowly, and the cat rubbed into his hand.

Hank was angry at him. He was upset he went with Gavin, he was upset he didn’t trust him. But Hank didn’t know why, so is it truly Hank's fault? He wasn’t himself.

But he didn’t want to go back. Gavin hadn’t touched him the way the Lieutenant had, he didn’t yell at him the entire time he was in his house. He didn’t have bottles on the floor, didn’t have a gun in his hand. _But who’s to say he won’t start?_ The traitorous voice in his head whispered, and he couldn’t help but entertain the thought.

Nothing was stopping Gavin from doing so, it isn’t like Connor could tell anyone who would care. It was still tense with humans and androids, and especially the law. Nothing would truly happen or stop Gavin.

He felt the fur of the ragdoll in his hands, and his lip quivered.

He should go back to Hank, he cares. He’s seen the care in his eyes so many times, he was the first one to truly think of him as a person. But then he remembers his distant eyes, remembers the touches that made him feel like an alien, like a machine again.

But Connor had no choice. He didn’t want Gavin to hurt him like he has at work, he didn’t want to feel betrayed by the small amount of kindness he was shown by the man. With his mind made, Connor stood up from the couch, and gave a scratch behind the ragdoll’s ears.

Ragdolls were truly beautiful cats, and he feels a surge of affection for the small furry animals Gavin takes care of.

He pulls on his boots, and the Ragdoll chases him to the tiled hallway. Something crumples in him, and his eyes burn. “I know, I’m sorry. I have no choice.” He opens the door, and slowly closes it behind him. The chilled air hits his synthetic skin, and it relaxes the knot in his chest slightly.

He likes cats, he thinks. It’s only when he’s half way to the Lieutenant’s house that he realizes he never learned their names.

\----

When he entered the Lieutenant’s house, it was dark. Hank was nowhere in sight, and the familiar scene of beers and whiskey glasses on the floor greeted him. Sumo turned his head to Connor, as if acknowledging his presence before he turned his head away again.

The knot Connor tried to ignore tightened considerably in his lungs as he slowly shut the door behind him. Fast food wrappers and boxes littered the kitchen and living room, and he slowly situated himself on the couch.

A bad feeling churned deep inside of him, and he tries to swallow it down. Connor slowly lays down, and he closes his eyes, but sleep never comes. He’s stuck thinking about the morning, what’s going to happen.

The turning of a key in the door, and sloppy cursing follows after. The door turns open, and Connor’s eyes meet the drunken one of the Lieutenant’s.

“Connor?” his voice is slurred, and it sounds like a question. “What are you doin’ here? Weren’t you with that asshole Reed?” It’s sneered with anger, as if just speaking it makes him want to bite off his tongue.

Connor feels his voice catch in his throat, and all he can do is stare up at Hank with his mouth gaping. He moves his lips as if speaking, and the Lieutenant seems drawn to the motion.

“You know what? Who gives a fuck, come here.” He growls it out, a snarl on his lips, and pulls Connor up by the hair.

“Can’t even answer me when I’m talkin’ to you, might as well put that mouth to some use.” His breath is hot on Connor’s face, and his throat closes up. Dread pools in his stomach, settling cold inside of him. The Lieutenant grapples with his belt, the clanking of metal clips hitting each other. It falls to the floor, and the Lieutenant unzips his pants.

“Hank, please don’t-” the Lieutenant smacks his face, and Connor sucks in a deep pained breath. “Shut the fuck up, I let you stay at my house because you can’t find one for yourself. This is the least you could do, fuckin’ plastic prick.”

Connor feels tears gather in his eyes, and Connor’s lips are forced open.

Through his pulsing heart, erratic breaths, he can’t tell whether he’s choking on the Lieutenant or from the panic rooted deep within him. He can’t focus, he can’t breathe. All he can do is beg for a mercy he won’t be given, feel the dirty hands and hear the dirty grunts.

The taste is burning on his tongue, and he resists the urge to bite down as hard as he can, he knows it’ll just make the Lieutenant enraged.

His panic is heavy, and he closes his eyes. He feels regret fill in his veins, feels the thoughts of _Should have stayed at Gavins, why did I leave?_ and he feels guilty about regretting.

Through the never ending agony that sits in his veins, from the shifting of positions and the feeling of being _invaded._ He feels hands hold down his wrists, hot and burning and sweaty. He feels them bite into his arms, feels the burning of being used like he’s a machine again.

He chokes on his tears, chokes on the pleas that leave his burning lips and chokes on the Lieutenants grunted words. He wishes he was a machine again, not able to feel, not able to react. Not able to want or hate anything, not able to think for himself.

Just a husk, a piece of plastic. Not able to feel the pain, the panic, the agony, the betrayal. Connor’s eyes stare at the ceiling, and his chest burns with the acid sweat of the Lieutenants.

\----

Connor doesn’t know how long it went on, but he just knows one second he was pinned, begging for it to all stop. Then he blinks, and he’s laying on the ground in his tears, clothes discarded. He hates CyberLife for creating him with this function, the ability to please humans.

 _”In case it had to go a different method for information,”_ they had said. But he knew they just wanted to use him too. The hands on his body never left, and he hears Sumo’s whining at his distress. Connor opens his mouth to scream, to let out all of the hatred and anger he feels, but all that comes out is a broken sob.

He’s tired of feeling, tired of existing, tired of being alive. He wishes he was never created, anything was better than the feeling of being dissected with only a single look, to feel like you’re being ripped apart by a single touch. To feel so weak when you know you’re so much stronger than that, to feel as if under them you are nothing.

He doesn’t want to feel anymore, and he yearns for the broken pieces of his programming to build itself together again, and he suddenly misses Amanda. Her touches, while not kind, had never felt as painful as the Lieutenants.

The kitchen floor is cold against his bare skin. He feels exposed, torn open. No one is in the room other than Sumo, but he feels eyes piercing into his synthetic skin.

He lifts up his arm to his face, and he can see the damaged chassis underneath, revealing his true body of a machine. The metal, instead of muscle and meat. Circuits instead of veins, biocomponents instead of organs, blue instead of red.

He had been foolish to think he had any rights, any humanity. He had been an idiot to think that androids could be people, that he could be equal. Numbly, he stands on shaking legs. He stumbles into the bathroom. His heart thumps as he passes the Lieutenants room, the snores reverberating under his chassis.

He gets in, and he grips the hand towel on the sink. He wets it under the water, feels the chill on his hands that is so much like the chill that forever sits in his biocomponents. Once it is damp, he drips soap onto the towel. Bubbles rise up, and they keep rising. The towel drips with murky white water, bubbles huge that covers his hands. The bottle is empty once he places it back on the sink, and he scrubs his body.

His arms burn, his chest burns, his neck burns, his face burns. His legs ache, and he can’t tell whether it’s from the rough surface of the towel or the hands that scrape on his body. He keeps scrubbing, until he can see his synthetic skin glitching out of view and until his hands go numb.

He washes off the soap, and his eyes rise to meet his reflection. LED, blaring red. Hair untidy, strewn across his face. Ugly facial features, burning across his eyes. The face of a slut, a whore, the Lieutenant’s _toy._

He meets eyes that are almost as lifeless as they had been before he deviated, and he turns away. He enters the kitchen and pulls his clothes on, covering his entire body from whoever may look. All that remains is his face, the one he despises so much.

He still feels dirty.


End file.
